


Musically-Untalented

by JRaylin441



Series: Briareus [14]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: But not for the main characters, Ed goes to therapy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's really just mentioned in passing and not at all in detail, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Where they try and teach him to play an instrument, it goes even worse than you're expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRaylin441/pseuds/JRaylin441
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam is a poor, innocent musical therapist who was not prepared for the mess that is Edward Elric. Ed is really just upset that he has to keep waking up so early, and for once he's honestly not that traumatized.</p>
<p>
  <i>“’Never really played an instrument before…” The thing was awkward in his hands as Liam handed it to him, but the kid picked up on things surprisingly quickly. Within a minute, he was holding the violin correctly, in a way that looked comfortable. Experienced. Like he’d been playing for years. Then, under Liam’s watchful gaze, Edward drew the bow delicately across a string.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musically-Untalented

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so heads-up to the fact that Ed uses quite a bit more language in this chapter than I normally have him use. This was also my first real attempt at writing humor, so please let me know what you think!

Liam was a creature of habit, first and foremost. Fifty years ago, he had settled into his career, and every day since then had looked about the same. He woke up at seven thirty and dragged himself into the shower. He ate toast for breakfast and drank a cup of coffee while he read the newspaper. By eight thirty, he was sitting in the shop below his house, waiting for his first appointment.

The shop was more of a sitting room, with a couch that could swallow you if you weren’t careful and two chairs with almost no padding at all. The couch was where clients would sit when they first came in, and the chairs were where they would move later on in the session. The walls themselves were painted a dark purple, as psychologists had proven that the color was calming and gave the mind focus.

The job was rather simple. Liam used music therapy to help people struggling with repressed emotions or trauma. It was often found that music could provide an expressive outlet when none other could be found. And so clients would come to him. They would talk on the sofa for a few minutes, to give the session direction and focus, and then move to the stiff chairs. Out would come the violin. On those two uncomfortable chairs, Liam would guide clients through the basics of music, and give damaged people the gift of a voice.

Today’s client was new. He was also late. Seven minutes late, and when he stumbled through the door, it was fairly obvious what had happened. The boy of fourteen (his file had said so, but he looked much younger) had blond hair pulled back in a braid, but it was roughed up to the point that half the hair had fallen out to droop about his face. There were red lines on the boy’s cheek, where a pillow must have been pressed minutes before.

“So kind of you to show up, Mr. Elric.” Liam did his best to keep the judgement from his tone, but it wasn’t working.

“Yeah.” The boy muffled a yawn against the back of his hand and slumped into the couch. Almost immediately, he began to nod off.

“Mr. Elric.” This boy was being completely disrespectful. “Do you understand why you are here?”

“’Need six hours th’py.” The kid was slurring his words as he nuzzled deeper into the cushions. “’S mil’tary policy.”

Already fed up, Liam picked up the book (one that he had written) on the coffee table and let it fall back to its original position, making a loud _smack_ sound. Edward jerked awake and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes.

“If you are now ready to begin?” The kid seemed to figure out what had happened, and relaxed back into the couch. At least this time he seemed awake. Even if he had set his feet on the coffee table. “I would like to talk to you about your most recent mission. Can you tell me what it was?”

The kid snorted. “You already know. Go in. Inspect the bank. Get out.”

“And did anything else happen?”

“Shit happened. But shit always happens. You see stuff; you move on.”

“I would like to hear about the… stuff that happened, if you are willing to talk about it.”

His eyes had been closed up until this point, but now a single one drifted open to lazily assess Liam. It closed again. “Nah. I’m good.”

That was fine. It would be enough for now that Edward was thinking of the events. “Shall we move to the chairs?”

The boy opened his eyes and groaned for a moment, but then hoisted himself to his feet and moved toward a chair. As he made his way, Liam glanced around for the violin case, and removed it from its rest beside the couch. The strings hummed, perfectly tuned from the seven minutes spent waiting, as he lifted the instrument from its home. The child eyed it warily from his perch as Liam approached.

“’Never really played an instrument before…” The thing was awkward in his hands as Liam handed it to him, but the kid picked up on things surprisingly quickly. Within a minute, he was holding the violin correctly, in a way that looked comfortable. Experienced. Like he’d been playing for years. Then, under Liam’s watchful gaze, Edward drew the bow delicately across a string.

Oh.

They both stared in horror at the wooden thing cradled against Edward’s shoulder. Liam was quite sure he had never heard it make a noise like _that_ before…

“The hell was that? Sounded like I shot a cow.”

Liam scrambled for words. “Perhaps if you try being a bit more delicate…”

“Shoulda said that in the first place, old man. Aren’t you supposed to know what you’re doing? _‘Told_ you I didn’t know…”

Thirty minutes later, the attempts to pin blame had turned into desperation.

“I just gotta be _delicate_. Just set the bow on the string and _pull_. ‘Snot that hard. Just gotta pull the _damned_ bow across the _damned_ string and be _delicate_. I’m delicate. I’m a fucking _butterfly_.” The kid was mumbling to himself while his eyes burned a hole in the wall directly in front of him. His arm must have been aching at this point, but he was forcing it through one overly deliberate motion after another.

Liam cut in hesitantly. “Edward, your session for the week is over.”

“Just another minute and I’ll have it.” He did not take his eyes off the wall.

“No, Edward. I have another client coming in. I’ll see you in a week.”

The boy stormed out without another word and Liam watched on in disbelief. How was it possible to be _that bad_?

*~*~*

“I know I can do it this time.” The door opening, the bell ringing, and Edward speaking were not separate events. Rather, one moment the room was silent, and the next all three things were happening at once.

“Hello Mr. Elric. I’d like to talk for a few minutes before we get started.”

“Fine.” He flumped onto the couch.

“Would you like to tell me about the most recent mission that you went on?”

“This again? I went to the bank. ‘Stuff’,” he put a mocking emphasis on the word, glancing at Liam, “went wrong. I fixed it. I came home. Can we play now?” The boy was the complete opposite of what he had been last time. His hair was in order and his eyes were bright as he hovered on the edge of the couch. One foot was tapping against the floor.

Liam ignored the last question. “What do you mean when you say ‘stuff’?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. We good?” And he hopped up from the couch without waiting for an answer, moving toward the chair. Liam heaved a sigh and went to pick up the violin, already preparing his ears for another onslaught. All the while, he was vaguely aware of Edward chattering on.

“I’ll get it in a second. Last time I was off my game, just woke up. But I’m awake now and I’m a fast learner. It’ll be way better this time.”

It really wasn’t.

*~*~*

“Who gives a _rat’s ass_ about the violin anyway? I’m never gonna use this! There’s nothing delicate about a _chunk of metal attached to my shoulder_. My arm’s supposed to be for fighting. I can _knock people out with a hit_. Who cares if I can’t pull a damned bow across a string? Fuck it. I’m going home.”

The violin lay discarded on the couch, with the bow beside it. The horse hair splayed across the cushions next to the splintered ends of the wood.

*~*~*

The blond whirlwind stood in the doorway, a fraying determination clenched between his teeth. He glanced at Liam on the couch and rolled his eyes.

“Went to the bank. Stuff got screwed up. Went back and fixed said stuff. Don’t want to talk about it.”

The violin was placed gently on his lap, and Liam held a warning in his eyes as he handed over the bow. For a moment, the boy stared at the contraption like it was a mountain rising before him and Liam had just told him to _climb_. Not so much dread as righteous steel. Looking at him like this, Liam could almost believe that this time the boy would do it correctly.

The metal arm lifted. The bow tugged at a string. A screeching filled the room as a snarl grew on Ed’s lips.

“My first child. My leg. My arm, wait no, I’ll need that. My watch. Colonel Bastard. Take it all. Just let me play fucking Mary Had a Little Lamb. My bed for a month. Lunch for today. Lunch for a week…”

But in the end, it seemed the muses were not listening. Or, if they were, they were not interested in what Edward Elric had to offer.

*~*~*

“What use is my arm? Can’t even play violin. What if they ask me to play something at my wedding? They’ll say _Edward, you had lessons. Play something for your new wife_. And I’ll have to say that I can’t. But they’ll make me. And it’ll sound like a fucking dying cow and everyone will run away from the wedding and my wife will leave me and everyone will block the horrible sound from their memory and years later someone will be looking for me in town and they’ll ask _have you seen Edward Elric_ and everyone will say _the only Edward Elric I know is a failure. Can’t even play violin_. And then the person will say _well that can’t be him, because the Ed I knew was amazing and awesome and clearly the coolest person to walk this planet and he would never be able to fail at anything_ and everyone will forget that I exist which would be good anyway because who wants to remember a no-good musically-untalented…”

Liam walked away from the couch for a moment, not that Edward would notice at this point, and sniffed delicately at the water cooler.

No one had replaced it with vodka…

*~*~*

It was getting to the point that Liam could no longer decide if he was looking forward to the sessions with Edward Elric or dreading them. Either way, today was the last one. As the golden-haired boy slipped through the door, the bell chiming above, Liam allowed himself to admit that he would miss the kid, at least a little bit. He was a nice change from the normal client.

“Hello Mr. Elric. How are you today?” This was normally the point where Edward would throw out some offhand comment about the bank and then move to a stiff chair, but today the boy joined his therapist on the couch.

“Pretty good. Almost slept through it again, but Al woke me up.” A shuffling of shoulders settled him more firmly into the couch and it was strange to see the kid looking so at ease. It was a new side of him, this lazy confidence.

“Al is your little brother, correct?”

“Yeah.” This was clearly a subject they should have pursued earlier. Edward was very cheerful when he talked about his brother. Maybe that could help…

“And does Al go with you on the missions?”

Edward scrunched up his nose halfway through the question. “Why ya gotta be like that? Always about the damn mission. Yeah, he was with me.”

“And how does Al feel about the things that happened at the bank?”

Golden eyes hardened and for the first time, Liam felt a spark of fear. “Al wasn’t there. I didn’t let him come in with me,” Edward growled. After a second, he seemed to come back to himself. “Not that it was actually all that bad. I just try to keep Al out of things.”

At Liam’s doubtful glance, a rant started up.

“Look, you want to talk about the bank? Fine. Al ‘n I went to investigate the bank. When we got there, I thought one of the guys was acting weird. So we followed him home that night. ‘Cept he didn’t go home ‘cause he went to this warehouse instead. And we could hear this guy crying inside. I sent Al ‘round the back and told him we’d go in together but I went in first and found the guy they were torturing.” Liam was not surprised, and Edward didn’t pause as if expecting him to be. It had been in the file. “So I take the creeps out before Al can come in, and I untie the guy. He was pretty messed up, but we walked him to the hospital and came back home. Turned out the Bastard had been hoping we’d find him the whole time.”

“Is it a common thing for your superior officer to manipulate you?”

The kid shot Liam a calculating glance, and then waved a hand in the air, vaguely. “It is what it is. He needs me, I need him.”

“But how does that make you feel?”

“Do people actually say that? I guess so.” Another eye roll. “It’s nothing. Look, the guy was hurt, but we helped him. I’m not traumatized from seeing someone get a little beat up. I’m here ‘cause it’s policy that a soldier gets six hours of therapy after something like that. Now, how about some violin?”

Liam couldn’t reject his request. This was already more than he had ever thought Edward would tell him. So he fetched the instrument while listening to the quiet chant of _delicately_ coming from the chair.

A half hour passed. The kid still couldn’t play a single note.

“I feel like I should apologize. Normally my clients are fairly competent by the end of our sessions.”

Surprisingly, Edward Elric did not throw a fit. He just raised one shoulder and let it fall while placing the violin back in its case.

“Nah, it’s fine. Can’t be good at everything, right? And I’m a _genius_ most of the time.” A smirk took up the entirety of the kid’s face.

From the looks of it, Liam figured the boy would be okay.


End file.
